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sukunasteeth · 1 month

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Taking Care of a Tired Sukuna

Sukuna has had a long day.

Well, night.

Morning.

Fuck.

Working construction had been twisting up his sleeping schedule. At this point, Sukuna was starting to feel it in his body; in the strain in his muscle, and the aches and pains that randomly gripped him.

They had him working on a new project that could only be done at night, while the public was off the main roads, and that meant his new work hours were starting from sometime in the middle of the evening and ending in the morning or the mid-afternoon. Being nocturnal wouldn't be so bad if his commute home wasn't during rush hour. The traffic was always worse when he just wanted to crawl onto his couch and fall asleep there. And when he does come home at the end of the day - he's aching, exhausted, and every bone in his body is vibrating with the noise from a jackhammer or the hum of a forklift.

Sukuna has always liked something that keeps him busy, interested, something that tests his strengths. So, he can't say that he hates the job, but he does wish that it wouldn't occupy so much of his time. He's wont to forget things when he's so wrapped up in a new task.

Like today, for example, when he finally swings his truck around the front of his apartment building, barely making it off the freeway without murdering someone, and he spots your car parked there in his spot.

He starts a bit, his sleep deprived brain suddenly spinning as memory serves him.

That's right. You were supposed to come over today after he got off of work and spend the night- and he didn't plan a damn thing. There's no flowers in the backseat, he didn't stop to grab lunch for the two of you, he doesn't even have anything in his fridge for dinner tonight, besides a few forgotten beers tucked away in the side door.

As Sukuna searches for a parking spot much further down the street, he knows he should be disappointed with himself, but he can't help the touch of excitement that's suddenly dissolving the exhaustion from his muscles. Sometimes, Sukuna resents the fact that you manage to reduce him to this. He hates that he can't control that his heart skips a beat at the thought of seeing you again, like he's in some sappy romance novel.

But it was the hold you had on him, and he was starting to accept it.

You got to Sukuna's apartment about two hours before he was scheduled to be home. It was a day off for you, and you woke up with butterflies fluttering around in your chest.

You were giddy to see him. You always were. And not a single butterfly has died in your heart-space for him since the moment you met Sukuna, around two years ago. He has tended to each of them since then with his gentle but stubborn touch, although, he would never admit it.

You adored him for that.

It's still early in the morning when you use the key he had made for you to unlock his front door. Immediately upon stepping in, you're hit with how dark his studio is. The sun had risen over the horizon hours ago, and yet, the only hint of its light came from a small gap in Sukuna's blackout curtains. When you pull them back, you turn around and wince at the room behind you.

Yep, he's working too hard.

There's construction tools all over the house; sitting on the counter, in the sink, on his bed-stand, there's even a huge oil covered machine beside the front door that you nearly trip on in your trek over to the curtain. His coveralls and work clothes are strewn across the living room like he's been too exhausted to even make it to his bed at the end of his days, which is not very far from the couch. Meanwhile, his bedroom and the kitchen look nearly immaculate, telling you he hasn't cooked in days and confirming your suspicions about his sleeping arrangements. You wander over to his fridge and pop it open, sighing hopelessly when you're greeted with nothing inside.

Good thing he has you.

By the time he makes it home, it's around one in the afternoon. You've got his laundry hanging on the clothesline outside, more in the washing machine, and all of his tools and odds and ends have been sorted and dusted clean. You've opened every window he has, and cool, fresh air sweeps away the oppressed darkness his apartment held before. Everything was back in equilibrium.

When his keys jingle outside the door, you're just finishing up the last of folding his laundry. Sukuna steps inside, and your heart aches at how drained he looks despite the way his eyes widen as he peers around the room in surprise. His clothes are covered in dust from the construction site, and there's a smear of dirt on his cheek that makes him look like a chimney sweep. There's a tool in his hand that looks rather heavy, straining the muscles in his arm, but he seems to have momentarily forgotten to put it down. Half moon circles are embedded under his eyes, but they only bring out the intensity of his gaze.

"Hi 'Kuna?" You chime, calling his attention to rest on you.

He blinks, taking a moment to process the situation. You don't recognize the glimmer in his eyes then, and part of you starts to sweat at the thought of him taking this all wrong. Sukuna had never been particularly picky with you, but vice versa, you had never done something like this for him before. He never gave you the opportunity, after all. Out of the two of you, Sukuna was usually the one who was always effortlessly put together.

"You... cleaned..." He notes.

You swallow, "I did but I didn't move things around though. Just tried to put things back. Your laundry is right outside and I got you some groceries-" Sukuna drops the tool in his hand without warning, and you start talking faster, your voice raising a pitch as he starts towards you. "Okay, thinking back, I guess I should have asked. Maybe texted- no, you hate texting. Maybe called-"

“Did you clean the paint specks off of my air compressor?” He was standing in front of the machine beside the front door, which you painstakingly made sure not to ruin in your cleansing, despite having no idea what it was.

When he looks at you for an answer, continuing to close the distance between the two of you. You swallow the rock in your throat. “Too much?”

He’s made his way across the room and his surprised expression finally settles into a familiar hungry grin. He grabs you by the hem of your jeans, yanking you roughly towards him. You catch yourself on his chest, making a small noise of surprise. When you look up to scold him, Sukuna is an inch away from your face, his lips almost brushing yours, save for half a centimeter of space between them. He smells like sawdust and menthol, you can taste it in the close proximity as he greedily takes your breath away.

“Off. Now.” He growls, but his fingers are already undoing the button clasped in the front of your pants. “I’m about to fuckin’ eat you, sweet thing.”

You end up skipping lunch, but you're well satisfied a few hours later. A certain hunger: satiated. Sukuna is resting peacefully beside you. You can hear his even breathing against the sound of the cicadas outside, screaming in through the windows. Seeing him so content, sets your heart at ease and you release a sigh of relief.

Now, to end the night, it was time to slip out of bed without him noticing to finish folding his laundry.

Or so you thought.

As you carefully peel back the blankets and try to sneak off the side of the mattress, a warm pair of fingers loop themselves around your panty line, effectively preventing you from going anywhere. Guiltily, you peek over your shoulder to see Sukuna glaring at you with half of his face still smushed into his pillow, genuinely disgruntled with the fact that you were trying to leave his bed. You can't help but chuckle.

"I'm just gonna go grab your laundry." You reassure him, brushing a tousled tuft of his hair out of his eyes. The knot between his brows deepens.

"Let me do that later. C'mere. " He tugs on your panty line, confident that you'll be submissive for him.

The sun outside was casting tall shadows on the walls of his bedroom and the glow was now deep and rich, telling you that it was preparing to set. You didn't want Sukuna's laundry on the balcony all night, which is what you were sure would happen if you didn't go and grab it now.

You hear a thread rip in your panty line interrupting your contemplation and, quickly, you grab his wrist, squeezing it as a signal for him to let go.

He continues to hold fast, his brow cocking in a silent dare.

"'Kuna, come on." You try, "Lemme take care of you-"

"You've been doing nothing but take care of me all day." He scoffs, like the idea of it is absurd to him. Rarely does Sukuna allow you the opportunity to show him as much care and adoration as you have today. Being doted on was not typically something he enjoyed. You knew that, and that's how you also knew that he was exhausted to his bones that day. "Get your ass back here."

There's a tug again, and another thread snaps somewhere. You pout at him, already having the foresight that this pair of panties wasn't going to last you long either. Your partner had the tendency to rip them off of you, and this wouldn't be the first pair to become a shred of what they once were. To be fair, he was also known for giving you his credit card and telling you to go buy "some things for him to see you in", so it would be at no cost to you. But, you happened to like this pair.

Sukuna watches you consider your options silently, unrelenting in his hold on your lace. When you peek up at his gaze, testing one more time, you know you've already lost.

"Don't make me chase after you." He warns, the promise of your inevitable surrender is evident in the predatory glint of his eyes. If Sukuna had a tail at that moment, it would be swaying back and forth, preparing for a pounce. "It's been a while since the last time I had you tied up. I do miss those sweet little bruises we left on your wrists."

You feel the hair on the back of your neck stand at attention upon his recollection. The last time Sukuna had you in ropes, you had to call off of work the next day. Your backside stings with the memory, but half of you can't help but ache for it too. Tied up in Sukuna's bed while he was forced to care for the boneless pile that was his girlfriend, drunk off of his lovemaking? That wasn't the worst place to be.

But, on the other hand, you could tell how exhausted he was with the new construction project at his job. You have a flashback of showering with him at the end of the night and scrubbing sawdust out of his hair. Having to gently prod and kiss him awake as he fell asleep standing up in front of you. You were adamant that you weren't going to do anything to tire him further tonight.

Before you can properly give in, Sukuna must have decided that you were taking much too long to obey him.

His other hand reaches over and winds around your lower waist, pulling you backwards into the soft cushion of the pillows and easily flipping the two of you so that he’s mounted above you. In your surprised stupor, he collects both of your wrists in one of his hands and pins them above your head.

"You've forgotten how to follow directions again, kitten." His murmur is like velvet against your ear. His teeth graze over his favorite spot on the nape of your neck, where he’s already tortured it with his teeth and hickies. You didn’t realize how raw the skin was until he bites you there, drawing a whimper from your throat.

"Let's remind you."

#jjk #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #fluff #just love the idea of Sukuna coming home filthy #I'd eat it up personally #also good god i want to see this man in a pair of coveralls #my writing

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yuanology · 8 months

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m!reader fingering afab!geto while being 100% aware gojo's watching through the crack of the door so he decides to show gojo how sensitive his friend is and geto ends up squirting?? (lowkey embarrassed i wrote this, but yknow ignore it if you want😅)

what the Fuck .

gojo satoru was not a virtuous man. far from it, in fact. as a self-made god, satoru existed on a plane far above morality and whatever other human concept was created to define right and wrong. within infinity and the insurmountable power residing in it, there was only the man who wielded it and the humanity confining it.

even so, satoru still knew deep within his heart—the trembling, still beating thing residing underneath the constricts of his ribs—that he should not be doing this; that he should not be staying.

but satoru was not a virtuous man, and so he stayed.

because there, past the thin crack of the door, was his best friend—the same one he had known from childhood, the same one who had walked with him through the ins and outs of darkness—with his clothes stripped clean, thrown messily around the room, both of his feet planted flat on the bed, and his back arching off the mattress in a pleasured arch. between his legs, slick and heavy with evidence of his own debauchery, stood you—fully dressed, only the first two buttons of your collar open.

satoru knew of you. it was impossible not to. you were older than the both of them. when they were freshly entering their first year, you'd already matured where you existed in your third one. satoru himself had barely spared you a glance but in retrospect, he did remember suguru mentioning once or twice that he was training with you on the side.

fuck, satoru thought, dazed. if he had known this was what 'training' involved, he would have listened a bit better on what suguru had to say about you.

because you were holding his thighs apart, well-practiced fingers relentlessly pushing past suguru's slick folds, producing the loudest squelching noises. satoru couldn't see very well from this angle, but he could hear the sounds his best friend was making; fucked up and high-pitched, whiney in a way satoru had never heard him speak before.

suguru cried out your name, breathless and panting. "please," he was begging you, sounding close to tears. "please, no more."

you leaned in, mouth brushing over suguru's chest as you whispered your response. satoru couldn't hear you, even as his ears strained to catch a wisp of your words. but whatever it was, it must not be good because suguru is letting out a loud whine, one the turned into the strangled beginnings of a scream when satoru noticed that you had begun to pick up pace.

oh my god.

just as satoru took the first hesitant half step backwards, swaying in place, he hears your drawled out voice—cutting, brave, unyielding.

"now, where do you think you're going, satoru?"

satoru stiffened, and he realised that he wasn't the only one. suguru did, too—his body locking up as a new flush crawled across his skin. satoru had half the mind to apologise to his best friend in his head, a chant of i'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msuchashittyfriend looping in his head as if it could forgive him for not only being a pervert, but also for intruding on his best friend's secret.

satoru cleared his throat. he wanted to make an excuse, to apologise, but all that could tumble out of his throat was a hoarse, "um."

suguru let out a high whine at the sound of satoru's voice, as if he was spurred on by his audience. his back arched, his mouth parting as a deep sound escaped him. satoru watched, mesmerised, as the muscle on suguru's body rippled at the motion, your hands never once faltering in its ministrations.

"come here for a minute, satoru." your voice was calm, collected and almost clinical. as if you didn't practically have your entire fist buried in between suguru's slick folds, your thumb nudging at where satoru guessed must be suguru's clit if suguru's high pitched whimpers were anything to go by. "i need your opinion on something."

satoru swallowed thickly as he was drawn into the room, his motions dumb as if he was a mere puppet on your string. as he moved closer, he realised that there was more to the scene that he couldn't earlier see from his post by the door.

suguru's cunt was fucking drooling, slick dripping all over the place as his hips canted in the air as if to escape and to move closer to the pleasure. his hole would no doubt he gaping if you pulled your hand out, hungry for more. your thumb covered his clit wholly, rubbing at it mercilessly.

satoru felt himself twitching in his pants, throat working around the words stuck in his lungs.

"what do you need?" satoru asked, his voice wrecked. he would be embarrassed by it if it wasn't promptly drowned out by the sound of suguru's choked out noises.

without thinking, satoru moved a hand to rest on suguru's thigh, at the sight of his best friend in distress. he didn't realise what a great mistake it was until suguru did a full body shudder, a ragged gasp leaving him. satoru couldn't fucking breathe.

clearly, you didn't share the same sentiment because you were speaking again. "suguru wants me to stop, but i personally think he can come one more time," you said casually, as if this was a common conversation to have with just about anyone.

suguru let out a weak whimper, pathetic and desperate in a way satoru never knew him to be, at the sound of your words. you must have been trying to convince him about this for a while then.

stiffly, satoru nodded, not quite knowing how to react. "okay," he said dumbly.

he wasn't looking at you, too entranced by the sight of suguru with his legs spread wide open and his messy cunt being on full display, but he could hear the smile in your voice when you said, "well, what do you think? can he come one more time?"

satoru opened his mouth, a half-baked answer on the tip of his tongue, when he was interrupted by the sound of suguru's babbling.

"no. no, please. no more." there were tears in his eyes, dripping down his cheeks prettily, satoru noticed. suguru looked a mess, his hair a halo around his head and his hips lifted in the air as if he was nothing more than a cheap whore. satoru thought he was beautiful. "please. i can't. don't make me. please, please, please, pl—"

his words promptly turned into a loud scream, half-pained and half-pleasured, and satoru's head whipped around to look at the source of it. he swallowed thickly when his eyes dropped from suguru's face to his engorged clit, where your thumb was no longer rubbing at but rather, your earlier free hand was now gently tugging at the hood over it.

holy shit, satoru thought, his head spinning. because he just watched you pinch suguru's clit. you pinched suguru's clit. judging from the nonchalance of your gesture and the way suguru didn't try to fight back, instead canting his hips higher, this was something that you did often.

satoru was going to die. holy shit.

"shh, suguru," you reprimanded, silencing suguru's desperate sobs with a gentle pat to his thigh. suguru sniffled, but he stopped letting out those depressing sounds. "it's not you i'm talking to."

suddenly reminded that he owed you the debt of an answer, he blurted out an answer before he could think twice. "he can," satoru replied. "he's an overachiever, the dumbass. he can come another time."

suguru let out a loud sob at his answer, one that sounded a lot like betrayal.

satoru couldn't properly apologise to him, though, because your lips were curling into a sharp grin, looking like a cat who caught the canary, and satoru couldn't help but think that maybe, he was just in as big of a trouble as suguru was. maybe, with his answer, satoru had condemned not just his best friend, but himself as well.

you pulled your hand out of suguru with a lewd squelch, one that made satoru flush all the way to the roots of his hair—and oh god, he hadn't even realised he could burn up even more—and the way that suguru whimpered, both devastated and relieved by the loss, wasn't helping.

you took a step backwards, letting suguru's body drop onto the mattress. you gestured towards the now empty space between suguru's thighs. "on your knees, satoru. hands behind your back."

satoru couldn't do anything but comply. he dropped to his knees, his hands behind his back and his eyes now at level with suguru's fucked out cunt. holy shit. suguru was twitching, his pretty clit engorged and swollen from the earlier abuse and fucking pierced apparently. satoru exhaled sharply at the sight, his breath fanning across suguru's folds, and earning himself a short, aborted whine from suguru. oh my god.

satoru almost flinched when he felt your hand card through his hair, tangling your fingers into the strands as he guided your face closer to suguru's gushing pussy. "go on," you ordered him, your voice gentled by the sound of melodious laughter. "eat him."

thank you for the meal, satoru thought dazedly as his face was guided closer and closer, until he was buried in suguru's cunt and lapping up the taste of his best friend.

the response was immediate—suguru's thighs started quivering on either side of satoru's head, moving to rest on satoru's shoulders and pulling him in as if to suffocate him. satoru didn't mind, taking that as an unspoken order to start eating his best friend out like his life depended on it.

he didn't bother with hesitating or testing the waters. he licked a broad strip up the length of suguru's cunt, dipping in between his folds to gather the slick there at the centre of his tongue. satoru moaned at the taste, and he was immediately greeted by the feeling of suguru's walls squeezing around him as suguru met him with his own weak whimper.

"suguru's already sensitive." that was you again. there was notable amusement in your voice. "want me to help you make him come faster?"

satoru should say no. he wanted to stay buried in suguru's cunt forever, eating his best friend out until he was shaking all over the place. he wanted to make his best friend feel so good that he stopped being satoru's suguru and instead started becoming your suguru with satoru instead.

but he could hear his best friend's pleas even above the sound of his pounding heartbeat, the sound of suguru's suffering, and he couldn't let this keep going for much longer.

he nodded, the bridge of his nose bumping over suguru's clit in the process. suguru's thighs squeezed around him, a whimper escaping, and satoru quickly drew circles on suguru's hips in apology.

you, on the other hand, didn't seem to have the same courtesy as you told him, "suck on his clit, then open your jaw wide."

satoru obeyed even though he didn't really understand why you were telling him to do that, knowing that you likely understood suguru's body more than he did in this matter.

he pursed his lips around suguru's clit, sucking on it firmly, before he let his jaw drop open.

oh.

oh, holy fuck.

because suguru was squirting directly into his mouth, making a mess out of the lower side of his face, and satoru could only kneel there, his mouth wide open as he swallowed all of his best friend's slick juices. his head was light, and he couldn't breathe—both from the suffocation and the fact that geto suguru, his best friend, his one and only, just fucking squirted into his mouth.

when suguru finally let him free, thighs unlocking from around his head and limply falling onto the edge of the bed. satoru leaned back, unable to process what just happened, when he heard you speak again.

"don't forget your manners, suguru."

it was quiet for a moment, then he heard the small, almost shy, voice of his best friend. "thank you, satoru," suguru mumbled.

"you're welcome," satoru replied, his voice sounding fucked over. he couldn't correct himself just yet, though, his head still reeling.

he was still on his knees as he watched you rearrange suguru on the bed, peppering soft kisses onto his face and his collarbone and his chest in stark contrast to the way you had treated him earlier. there was the lull of soft conversation passing between the both of you, one that satoru didn't try being a voyeur of.

he was content with just kneeling there, his head filled with cotton and static. he didn't even bother with touching himself, still too entranced by the feeling of this all happening.

finally, your footsteps drew close to him. he tilted his head as he watched you approach him. you cupped his chin, tilting his head back to meet your gaze.

"messy," you noted, but the corners of your mouth were quirked into a smile. "but suguru's always been messy." satoru didn't have any response to that, so he simply nodded stupidly. somehow, that must be the right answer because you laughed.

you took a step back, taking a seat onto the edge of the bed. satoru's eyes tracked your movement almost curiously. he frowned when you patted your lap, as if you were expecting something from him.

"over my knee," you said. "i think fifteen should do. usually, i'd give more, but i'm assuming you're new to the scene, hm? don't forget to count."

satoru blinked dumbly. he stayed rooted on his knees. "what?" he asked hoarsely.

you raised a brow at him. "oh, satoru," you said, your voice placating. "did you really think that i was going to let you go unpunished just like that? over my knee. fifteen spanks and i want you to count."

when he still did nothing, your gaze darkened and your voice grew firm. "now, satoru."

oh, satoru thought smartly.

swallowing thickly, he moved to comply.

#once again . this ran away from me #idk if this was what you wanted anon but the idea of satoru eating suguru out literally invaded my brain i'm sorry #literally insane holy shitttt #sub jjk #sub geto suguru #sub gojo satoru #dom reader #top reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru #( asks. )#( thirsts. )

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bluevelvetea · 2 months

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So start by saving me, Itadori.

(Find my reference here)

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specshroom · 3 months

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★ - Some assistance

You and your boyfriend are lounging on the couch in the living room, winding down after a long day. He's drinking his evening tea and reading while you unsuccessfully distract yourself by flicking through channels on the TV. You decide to just come out and ask what you've been meaning to ask for awhile now.

"Kento? Do you think you could make me squirt?"

This poor man chokes on his tea and almost messes it on his home shirt. He just looks at you with a face that says "Why would you ask me something like that so suddenly?" You just look at him deadpan waiting for his response. He clears his throat and composes himself, realising it was a somewhat serious question and his girlfriend (soon to be fiancé, hopefully) wasn't just playing some dumb joke.

"Well... I'm sure I could try, Y/n. But why bring that up so out of the blue, if you mind me asking."

He responds, as polite as always. He makes you feel so safe in his presence it's almost supernatural.

"Uh... I've just been thinking about it for awhile, I guess." He places his mug on the coffee table, the one that says "Live, Laugh, Love" in exaggerated curly font, courtesy of Gojo. He doesn't know why you insist on making his tea in that mug but he drinks it every time anyway. He brings your legs into his lap and lightly massages them silently asking you to continue.

"I'm just curious to see if I can is all. Whenever I've tried to do it myself, I always just get too sensitive and stop, but... If I had someone else do it, I think I might actually be able to."

You explain this to him almost like a scientist explains their hypothesis, like you've thought about it for awhile. He rubs under your shins and thinks for a bit. he would very much like to be the one to make you squirt and he's confident in his abilities but he also doesn't want you to be upset if you end up not being able to do it.

"I also just think it would be really hot if you made me squirt."

That breaks him out of his thoughts with a disbelieving huff.

"The problem is that when I get sensitive I'm gonna be yelling for you to stop out of second nature. But you can't stop Kento, you have to keep going until I either squirt or say the safe word. Can you do that, Baby?" Nanami looks up at your serious face, you really have thought about this quite a bit. He nods his head, sealing the deal. You just stare at eachother for a moment longer, the TV still going in the back. You break out in a smile, unable to keep the semi-serious atmosphere.

"Can- can we do it now?" You ask the man on the opposite end of the couch while you try and stifle a giggle.

Nanami smiles and pulls you closer to him by your legs. You yelp as you get yanked into his lap where he attacks your neck with kisses. He hoists you up and starts walking to the bedroom. Once he sets you onto your shared bed, you start removing your shirt and shorts while he rummages in the cupboard for a towel that he puts down on the bed before undressing himself.

You're almost shaking with excitement and anticipation. Nanami sits against the headboard in nothing but his boxers, placing the towel on the bed in front of him. He watches as you turn to him with that sultry look in your eyes. You crawl your way up the bed on all fours until you're right between his muscular thighs. Your hands glide up his thighs and waist, you kiss him with need and he reciprocates. You break the connection to feel yourself up infront of him and sensually take off your bra. You present yourself to him and kiss him again before turning around and pressing your back to his chest.

His hands go to your waist to gently squeeze and rub there. You spare no flare when taking off your panties and you adjust yourself so that both your legs are wide open, slightly bent and his stronger ones are over yours, forcing them to stay open.

"Put your legs like this so that it stops me from closing mine when it gets too sensitive."

You say as you help him into the position you want. Nanami chuckles and bends down to say lowly into your ear.

"You really have thought this whole thing through, huh?"

You flush and nod your head as his hand moves down your body to where you want him the most. His touch is gentle at first, lightly stroking down your clit and lips, gathering wetness with his fingers. He starts to work his finger into you and gently rubs your clit with the other hand, coaxing you to melt into his touch. You start moaning and groaning with the pleasure your wonderful boyfriend is giving you.

With both his hands working on your pussy so diligently, it's no wonder your first orgasm washes over you pretty quickly. Nanami keeps going at the same steady pace after you cum and it's the first out of the ordinary occurrence in this session. You usually would get a grace period after you cum to come down from the high but you and Nanami have a goal. The fact that you get no chance to come down at all is fucking with your brain and the fucked out feeling is just multiplying every second his strong hands play with your pussy.

Nanami lays back a bit, forcing you to also lay back and expose yourself a bit more as you begin to writhe and squirm. One hand is still diligently circling your clit as he works his two middle fingers into you, slamming into that perfect spot inside you over and over and over again. You get louder and more frantic as the second orgasm hits you. Your head falls back on Nanamis chest as you groan his name.

"Uuuuh Fuck! Feels so good Kento, soo good, so good, s' good, s' good, s' gud." You mumble and moan to him. Your second orgasm hits you full force and the pleasure doesn't stop or slow down, in fact it only gets more intense. He doesn't even slow down despite you're kicking legs and bucking hips.

Nanami eventually brings you to a third orgasm, now things really start to feel sensitive and your whines and cries of overstimulation get louder but the man doesn't tire. He keeps going, mumbling things like "Cmon, cmon Love." And "You can do it Darling".

Before you know it the fourth wave hits you like a train, this is where you get frantically desperate as you realize he isnt even slowing down. You're now actively trying to get out of his iron hold, trying to close your legs just a little but his strong thighs keep you open for him. You're squirming and struggling and crying out.

"Wait wait wait wait!".

Your pussy is so raw and sensitive, you almost beg him to slow down but the man is going even stronger now. He's more precise with his movements, touching all the right spots with just the right amount of force to make you weep.

"Wait Ken! It's sensitive, stoooop stopstopstop!" You hands go to his to try and make him slow down a little but Nanami isn't having any of that. You set out a goal for yourself and clear rules. He is going to make sure you reach your goals like the good partner he is.

He cages your arms against your chest with one arm hugged around you while the other still goes at your clit, rubbing frantic but deliberate circles into the pink flesh with his callous palm. The wet slick sounds of your pussy being bullied by the man you love are drowned out by the sounds coming from your mouth.

You're screaming now, legs shaking and kicking, not nearly strong enough to budge against Nanami's thick thighs forcing them wide open. Your entire body begins convulsing and spasming, you swear you feel like you're going to pee but you don't even have the mind to be concerned about that. You can only scream an intelligible jumble of pleas at this point as your nails dig into his arm.

"Cmon Honey, just one more f'me, your doing so well."

The praise makes you go even dumber as you're quickly brought to the end of your rope. The last strand snaps and a tidel wave of violent hot pleasure comes crashing down on your entire being. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your screams turn to silent hiccups and overwhelmed chokes.

Your body convulses violently and your back arches off Nanamis chest as he holds you tightly to his chest. It's by far the most intense orgasm of your life and you don't even register the jet of clear liquid shooting out from you untill you hear Nanamis loud groan at the sight.

"There you go, that's my girl."

You're brought back to earth and let out a long groan as Nanami presses up on the hood of your clit to force more squirt out of you, the feeling is even more euphoric than you thought it could ever be.

Nanami pats your pussy, making sure he gets every last drop out as your wetness trickles down your pussy and ass onto the towel Nanami set down, which was definitely not enough to keep the bed dry. You drop your body completely limp onto Nanamis chest as you both catch your breath.

Nanami releases your arms and your hand immediately goes to cup your swollen, abused pussy with a whine. Nanami chuckles and runs his hands down your back and around your waist, soothing you, bringing you down gently while mumbling little praises. You curl up on top of him and dig your face into his neck with another small whine.

"Love you s'much." You mumble into his hot skin. He chuckles at you once again.

"I love you too, Baby."

-★

#i thaught this was such a hot idea #Nanami isnt usually my type so i hope i did him justice?#nanami kento #first Nanami post LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jjk x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x you

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nkogneatho · 3 months

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imagine being childhood friends with toji. he was not allowed to go out of the house but he still did because he hates his home. do you even call it a home? he was a child but he understood pain clearly.

he was all alone, playing with shells and sands on a beach. you recognized him because your mom and other aunties in the neighborhood told you and like every other kid to stay away from him. but you approached him anyway. he was cold at first when you wanted to be friends with him, hesitant as to why would someone be nice to him. he never knew kindness growing up in that horrible household. but he is a child who found comfort in your kindness.

you both started playing often, trying to keep it a secret as he knew you'd be in trouble if your mom knew. he enjoyed finally smiling without having to force it, until one day you disappeared. he thought you finally fell into the trap of those rumors about him. but you were taken away to a new city when your parents saw you being acquainted with him. they did not want to be associated even with the shadow of any zenin.

he waited and waited on the same beach, at the same place, but you never come back. the sandcastle you built together crumbled under a big wave.

#this sounds like such a good fic idea. i'll write it if i have time maybe. i don't have a lot of toji simps here so lemme know if i should #pasi.txt #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro #toji fluff #toji angst #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen

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yuweart · 11 months

Photo

Cheering myself up by drawing young and happy Satoru and Megumi

#this was based of a photoshoot by a kpop group I had no idea hahah #gojo satoru #fushiguro megumi #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #megumi fushiguro #satoru gojo #gojo #fushiguro #hidden inventory arc

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selarina · 4 months

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continuation to this

so, that night gojo satoru leaves with no jacket and half a broken heart and for the first time since he was 12 years old, he takes a sip of alcohol as he slouches against his home bar.

it's bitter, and it tastes a bit too much like soy sauce for his liking but he sips and sips until he sees the engraved "S.G" inscription at the bottom of his glass.

"hello, husband," a voice comes from behind him, interrupting his sob fest.

and for a moment, for dumb little moment, he thinks it's you. the voice sounds nothing like you though, it's far too high-pitched, but he's dreamt of this far too much for him to imagine someone else calling him husband.

aya tsukino materialises next to him, and seats herself on a seat beside him. she moves with a certain a quiet sleekness that he barely caught her moving from behind him. or maybe, he's finally out of it. "excited for the wedding, then?" she deadpans as she pours herself a drink.

"thrilled," he parrots back, merely a barren echo of emotions.

there's more truth in this room than there's been in your shared room for weeks. because it's simple really— gojo doesn't want to marry her, and aya couldn't care less as long as she got the money his family had.

before they had even exchanged any words, it was clear that they had this silent agreement that the two of them had little to do with love and everything to do with societal expectations and status.

as gojo attempts to take another sip from his empty company, he can't help but replay the events of the evening in his mind. your anger, and the way you stood up for the love you believed in. it'll haunt him for the rest of his life.

he wonders if you'll genuinely come to understand that he did have you in mind when he left you. he doesn't want you to be a mistress, a dirty little secret. he's seen how it broke his mother apart. how could he wish the same fate upon you knowing how his mother's life ended?

you're strong, and he believes you will persist and he will see at the end of his life sleeping grey and old in his bed as he stares at the way the sunlight hits your laugh lines.

but he also remembers the way you cried in secret. he never brought it up, he never brings it up. he was just waiting for the day you'd be comfortable enough to cry in front of him but for now, he settles for meaningless presents he brings afterwards to wipe off the blue from your face.

he places his glass down with a clink, and he hears a resembling clink from aya. "i'll ask you this only once, gojo satoru," she speaks up. "do you want this marriage?"

"i never wanted this marriage," his reply is immediate.

"of course not," she says. "i meant, do you still want to go through with this?"

he doesn't respond. the both of them know the answer to that, it's written all too clearly on his soppy little face.

"what if i don't," he finally speaks. "what about your money? your status?"

"my money..." she feigns to ponder. "as someone who's always sought out money, i can tell you one thing about it. money, it comes and it goes. i'll find another way as i always do," she says. "i will be fine."

"your father—"

"—is a terrible man, who will go on his pissy campaign against me but i hope it's not presumptuous of me to expect you to come to defence when needed. you know, for all the trouble?"

he chuckles with no mirth. seems trouble is all he's capable of causing the past few days. "of course," he responds.

aya smiles, she supposes there's one benefit of having the strongest sorcerer as her ex-fiancé. she stands up, as she pulls her coat snug against her body as she prepares to leave. "besides, you're not the only rich high-status man in town, you know?"

"well, they're not all me," he replies. his smug demeanour returning to him like it's breathing a new life into him.

"wow, a bonus too," she chuckles.

"and who was that handsome man with you on friday? blonde, glasses, chiselled like a—"

"nanami kento," he replies with a grin.

"nanami kento. is he rich?"

"not as rich as you," he replies. it's true. he's rich, he worked on wall street after all and nanami is a smart man, he has so much in his savings account, it's enough to feed an entire nuclear family. why he saves up is something that's beyond gojo.

"well, he's handsome. tell mr. kento i said hello," she smiles facetiously.

"tsk, fine." he grins again. "get out of here."

it's been a week since you heard about the wedding falling apart. and since, you've been hearing about it daily, almost hourly if you're being honest. after all, you're at the centre of it. it only makes sense.

there's a whole slew of narratives running around, cheating, money laundering, even murder. but the most popular one was about how aya was the rosaline to your romeo and juliet. gojo's as romeo as he comes — handsome, influential and maybe a bit endearingly dumb but you fail to see how you're juliet. she was rich, influential, beautiful — everything you've been starkly reminded that you are not.

but everyone's talking about the romance of it all and you haven't heard from gojo himself so it's strange to take their words to mind or heart. you ignore them, forming a ready-made response sheet in your head to every possible question you encounter across the week. they become white noise, as you go through your day like a pre-programmed robot.

but that changes on a hot, dusty afternoon as you're sitting in a cafe, awaiting a man you were advised against seeing, and he's late. of course, he's fucking late. he broke up with you and he has the audac—

he walks in. he looks exhausted, lankier than usual, and there's a cruel part of you that likes it. to know he looks as miserable as you've been seeing. there's the other, familiar part of you that wants to run your fingers against his sensitive eyes as you feed him with the warmth of the diner's food.

but you do neither, you neither smile nor frown. you sit in place as you wait for him to come and sit opposite you.

"hey," his voice sounds gravelly. "i'm sorry i'm late."

"nothing i'm not used to," you reply with a glare as you cross your arms.

his hands reach for the menu as he plays with the edges of the paper. he always orders the same breakfast meal from this place. he must be nervous.

"i... i wanted to talk to you," he starts. "i want you back."

"excuse me? you can't just—"

"i'm willing to do anything. anything. if you want to take it slow, i understand. if you want to take your time, i understand. if you want me to get down on my knees and beg, i understa—"

"do it."

his eyes widen, you can tell — even though the black glasses are blocking his eyes, you can tell. it only lasts for a split second, because you blink with contempt and he's beside you. on his knees, as he stares up at you. he barely stares up at you — he's so tall, he's almost eye-to-eye with you. but even so he hunches his back, makes himself small.

"i'm sorry," he says again, as he takes off his glasses placing it onto the table in front of you. his eyes are alarmingly blood-red, and it takes every muscle in your body to hold back from running your fingers over his. "like i said, i'll do anything. just pleas— take me back."

you stare, and he stares back at you. you're too lost in the way he looks at you — at your mercy — that you miss the strange and baffled looks from people around you. and when you finally do, your cheeks flush with heat.

"okay," you say. " please, get up now."

"no, let me— let me stay," he says. pleads. "just let me stay until you take me back."

"fine," you sigh, as if there was any real objection from your side. "get up now."

"really?" his blood-red eyes gleam, you could almost see a tinge of the vibrant blue coming back to life.

"yes," you groan as your hand grip his elbow. "i was willing to be your fucking mistress. did you really thin— i would say— mmpph"

and just like that he's up, sliding next to you on your seat, as he kisses you. you're ashamed to admit that your first thought was the idea of getting kicked out for public indecency but your second thought was about how you think you could stay like this forever. despite the public gawking at you through mean and baffled stares.

"i'm serious about doing whatever it takes," he says, sincerity laced in his voice. "you shouldn't let me get away with this lightly."

you smile. "I hope you mean it," you reply. "and i won't. i’ll make you work for it, just a little."

he nods with a smile, "anything. i'll make it up to you."

"you have to do the chicken dance," you say, seriously and firmly.

"what?"

"you have to do the chicken dance. right now in the middle of the diner and i'm taking a video," you pull out your phone. "and... i'm sending it to nobara."

his eyes widen, almost like he's feeling actual fear. "not nobara," he gasps. "but she's so mean, baby."

"well, you said anything."

he sighs. gojo looks around the crowded diner, his tall frame rigid and tense. he glances at you, then at your phone, and finally resigns himself to the absurd request.

"fine," he mutters, standing up from the seat as he begins flapping his arms and doing a clumsy version of the chicken dance in the middle of the diner.

#the idea was to make gojo as pathetic as possible #but ya'll asked and i'm delivering #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk angst #gojo satoru #gojo x reader angst #jjk x reader angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader angst

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rarepears · 2 months

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I wanna see Woo Jinchul handle Gojo. Who will win? The world's strongest jujutsu sorcerer or the A ranked hunter who knows how to handle S ranked hunters with egos bigger than their skills.

Then it brings into question why Woo Jinchul is even in Japan in the first place...

#gojo #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk ideas #solo leveling #solo leveling ideas #woo jin chul #gojo satoru with new handler woo jinchul AU

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rezitio · 4 months

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┊⋆ ˚✯✩ Twitter LINKS w/ jjk men;<nsfw>>

a/n : everyone even teens have been aged up to 18 and above!

Warning : nsfw under cut, anal, oral m! & f!, spanking, rough fucking, chocking, fingering

Characters : gojo satoru, geto suguru, toji zenin, nanami kento, itadori yuuji & sukuna ryomen.

⋆ ˚ Gojo Satoru

Gojo laying you on the couch after misson

Waking up with Gojo

Gojo making you do all the work because he's lazy

Gojo being annoyed by your antics

Sucking Gojo

Riding Gojoq

⋆ ˚ Geto Suguru

Teen!Geto can't stand to see you in a skirt anymore

Geto after a long day of Gojo

Taking him in the car

Begging Geto to be mean to you like he was that day after that mission

While Geto was figuring out whether he hated non-sorcers or not, he often took out his frustrations on you

⋆ ˚ Toji Zenin

Toji fingering you as you squirm

Toji just fucking teasing you

Toji taking a shower with you

Toji chocking you on his length

Taking him in like the good slut you are

⋆ ˚ Nanami Kento

Nanami eating you out

Nanami after work

Nanami praising your body

Nanami comes home after a long day only to see you masturbating

⋆ ˚ Itadori Yuuji

Yuuji fingering you

Yuuji making sure you're alright

⋆ ˚ Sukuna Ryomen

Sukuna playing with you

Sukuna showing affection

Sukuna digging his hands in your pants

Sukuna did not expect you to be that good

No I don't like geto fym?

:: 18/12/23

:: 29/12/23

#twt links #jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader #gojo x reader #sukuna #sukuna smut #jjk links #yuji itadori #toji smut #jjk toji #toji x reader #nanami kento #nanami smut #twitter links #jujutsu kaisen smut #Have no idea why it took me so long to post

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riaki · 5 months

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nice boys and sour hearts | satoru gojo x reader

wc: 4.6k cw: minor swearing, he refers to u as 'momma' once (its normal i promise) n i think thats about it post suguru defection, shoko typical smoking ; no established relationship b ur def more than friends

i didnt want this angst to be too intense so i made it super duper fluffy. hopes it tastes like strawberries to u cs it does in my head ; another one of those fics i whipped up to meet the weekend deadline b i’m actually proud of this one not proofread!

satoru hates arguing with you.

it bites at him; twists his heart from the inside out in such a gut-wrenching way that he can hardly stand seeing your nose wrinkle in frustration and your eyes narrow with impatience, let alone hear the words coming out of your mouth, dripping with venom and irritation directed at him. he's never been used to being on the receiving end.

it tastes sour; bitter on his tongue in a way he's never been accustomed to. his tastebuds only recognize the sweet taste of fruit syrup, powdered sugar, or warm chocolate as home; he never indulges in the bitter, like the black coffee the kid he took in seems to like so much. but he'll take the silly sour lemon drops with sweet cream in the center, only because they remind him of you. you, so sweet when you love but sour when you're annoyed, which happens to be now, in this instant.

of course, he'll tell himself he doesn't mind. that sweet and sour have always gone nicely together. like strawberry lemonade on hot summer afternoons when the both of you have had enough of being stuffed into a clammy hot classroom with your musclebrain teacher. sometimes its the three of you, maybe even the four of you if you get lucky with the pixie stick trade offering (a healthier alternative to a cigarette, you both agreed on). but nowadays, it was only ever the two of you. the bitter had chosen his own path, and tangy was locked up in the infirmary sun up to sun down.

but right now, you're upset with him. and he absolutely despises it— to him, it's abhorrent. a strong word, but it's only fitting. but he can't help it when your conversation lingers in his mind, spinning itself a web of self-doubt and hurt and anger as he slips his gym shoes off and redresses himself by the school lockers, running a hand through his hair with a forced, annoyed exhale.

it was nothing big, really. or at least, that's what he thinks. you'd been in the gym after school, watching as he messed around with the basketball, seeing how long he could go dribbling by himself with a bump of his knee there, pushing it to the floor with his hand and watching it bounce back up with mild interest. he had no one to play with, but at least the ball would come back up no matter how much he pushed it down.

it was small. barely worth fussing over.

he had already been irritated. it was hot out, because summer was coming around. sweat beaded on his neck and rolled down his chest, seeping into his shirt as he wiped his forehead and made another shoot at the hoop, landing back on his feet with a soft thud as the basketball rattled around the rusted metal ring and fell through the net for the nth time that afternoon.

a hum of approval comes from your throat, followed by a loud whistle of contentment from him as he watches the ball bounce on the floor. he hikes his sunglasses up his forehead, bringing an arm up and wiping away the sweat on his cheek with his sleeve as he turns to look at you.

"that was pretty good, yeah? i think i deserve a celebratory smooch. lay some sugar on me, momma'." he laughs, loud and arrogant. you just give him a pointed look at that, but he ignores it as a sign for something wrong and only acknowledges it as your dramatic endearment. like speeding up at the sight of a yellow light in hopes that you'll make it instead of slowing down at the warning.

his shoes made squeaking sounds on the gym floor as he made his way over to you, swiping his shades off his face and sliding them onto your forehead, nestling in your hair as he grabbed a rag from the bench and wiped the sweat from his jaw. you have his uniform jacket on your lap, the yellow button glinting in the dying sunlight filtering in through the windows, reflecting off indiscernible flecks of dust in the air.

you had watched him with quiet contentment, observing the languid way he moved, graceful like a dancer moving in water. but then, you seemed to remember something; his lips pressed into a thin line, tilted to one side in anticipation. it made you hesitate— he always knew when you were about to speak before you even opened your mouth. he had come to notice, and appreciate, little things about you like that.

"were you smoking with shoko?" you had asked him. he tilted his head, eyebrow cocked up as he made a face. "no, i wasn't. why d'ya ask?" he huffed, watching from the corner of his eye with mild disinterest as the basketball, still rolling from his previous goal, bumped into the wall. cocky as ever.

(he wouldn't even look you in the eye when you were being dead serious.)

you reach a hand into his jacket, fishing around for something in his pocket; that gets his attention. who knows what trinkets and candy wrappers he has in there? and he'd hate for you to send him to his yearly checkup early again; the nurses always try to coddle him, and he has half a mind to charge for battery. nevertheless, he almost mistakes what you pull out for a lollipop stick. but it's not— it's a cigarette; a white papery hit of cancer with a dead cherry. certainly not a wise idea to keep that in his pocket among the other very flammable wax wrappers and the occasional flower petal, but who were you to judge? you, who's lips pucker like they've just tasted lemon juice when he eyes the unlit cigarette, utterly unamused.

he knows that you know it's his; the subtle glistening of pink around the end points to the gloss on his lips; he can practically taste it on his tongue. he wonders if you'd put the cigarette to your mouth too if you could have a sample of his lipgloss; then again, you could always just ask for a lip-to-lip taste, and he'd indulge you without a second thought.

you twist the cigarette butt between your fingers so that he can see the remnants of faint strawberry pink on the edges. he just rolls his eyes with a loud huff, leaning his weight back on his heels and shoving his hands in his pant pockets.

"yeesh. you're such a goody two shoes, y'know? how come shoko's allowed to smoke 'n i'm not?" he drawls, an arrogant lilt to his voice as he sticks his lower lip out. you can see a matte spot where the gloss had been transferred to the cigarette paper. you just sigh exasperatedly (he feels like a kid when you do that) and lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees. his jacket bunches up in your lap.

you tap the cigarette to his chest a few times; it makes a soft thumping sound against the fabric, and for a moment he's grateful of the noise; it sounds just like the way his heartbeat picks up with each touch, but you don't hear it. he wonders if you ever will. maybe one day, when there isn't so much distance between you and he has the opportunity to tuck your head to his chest, right over his heart.

"it's not that i care about the lung damage, idiot. why were you smoking?" you asked, voice softening. and he absolutely hates when you do that, because it always pulls on his heartstrings and brings a flush to his face, the way you treat him. he thought that if you did it enough, he'd be sent to the doctor for heart palpitations instead of a sweet tooth.

he doesn't answer you at that. how could he tell you, when he knew all that'd result from it was a thorn in his side? you, being the rose. so beautiful but awfully prickly and unfairly sour like a lemondrop with a sweet inside. then again, he'd much rather have your interrogating care than lose you, like what had happened with the reason he was trying out smoking in the first place.

then, it happened— your voice went unbearably soft, like puffy white covers and featherlight pillows with silk covers on a saturday morning, looking out the window to see pink tulips against a cloudy blue sky as the sun streamed in. it almost made him want to clutch your hand over his chest and see if you could feel the way he was reacting. no doubt, it was filled with such patient tenderness; all-encompassing sweetness it made him want to cry. so he coughed to cover it up, averting his gaze and bringing one hand to his face to absentmindedly smooth down the strands of damp white hair hanging over his eyes.

"thinkin' about suguru again, are you?" you asked gently, tucking the cigarette back into your pocket—yours, not his—and reaching out to take his hand.

his lips parted ever so slightly, gaping like a goldfish. he knew he looked silly, and he should've been okay with that— because being vulnerable with you, out of everyone he ever knew (with maybe the exception of one) was easier than breathing; came more naturally to him than his gravitation to a challenge. the same could be said for sweets.

(maybe he'd have to re-evaluate his proclaimed taste, then. since you were more sour than sweet.)

but this time, he wasn't okay with it. it had been hard to talk about what had happened with suguru one year ago since— it formed a nasty lump in his throat, bitter like black coffee and the wrong mix of herbs. it made him feel weak. reminding him of his shortcomings, which, in his mind, shouldn't even exist in the first place. but you never had a problem ripping his problems from the shielded cavity in his gut, bringing them under the operator's light to dissect and solve like a surgeon. forget about forcing him to the doctor's— at this point, you should be the one in the white coat, not shoko. he thinks about what you'd look like with blue gloves on your delicate fingers for a moment too long.

"what's it to you?" he snaps back after what feels like three years of his life. his fingers tighten around yours for a moment before he pulls his hand away abruptly.

the frown that lingered on your face from then on had been burned into his memory.

and, well, that was his mistake. it spiraled from there— because he knew what it was to you, and he hated that. hated that you could see straight through him like a cloud blue stained glass window; without rose colored lenses like the ones he always wore (the ones he rocked, he thinks).

a crack of thunder overhead jolts him from his thoughts; he couldn't even get in there to dust the spiderwebs away before being jerked back into reality. he clicks his tongue in disappointment, watching as the skies pry themselves open and rain begin to fall in the way it only did over heavy summer showers. he wishes the sky would stop its weeping, but even the strongest has his limitations.

but it doesn't matter. he has one of those cheap plastic umbrellas he'd bought from a convenience store one day in a late march many moons ago, during the brightest blue spring of his life. and so, he didn't understand why he was lingering at the door, swinging the umbrella around his fingers by the hook on the handle, watching as the rain fell with increased fervor. there was no plastic button to keep the folds tied up, so it floundered around with each swing like a tulip bent by monsoon winds. maybe on the coast of some faraway land with windmills and fields of flowers. he wonders if he'll ever get to see the world with you someday— a fleeting thought that crumbles instantly when he conjures your pretty face in his vision, clear yet distorted like a reflection on a glazed pond, rippling water from the dragonflies that skipped over the surface.

you were definitely still angry with him, because you hadn't showed— normally, you'd walk home together. sometimes with shoko, if she didn't leave early. angry words echo in his mind, the image of your downturned lips swimming in his bright vision as he watches the rain streak down the window panes by the lockers. there's a fog settling over the grass outside that's sure to leave dew after the storm. he wonders when that'll be.

"why can't you ever take me seriously? can't you see i'm worried about you?"

"of course i can. but i don't need your damn concern!”

...

he'd been sorely mistaken, that was for sure. loosing his cool and snapping at you wasn't exactly something he took pleasure in, either way. he leans back on his heels, tapping his foot impatiently as he holds the umbrella like a cane against the floor. infinity could probably do away with the rain. another reason as to why he's not even sure why he's waiting here, or why he's holding an umbrella. perhaps to keep in case he has to offer it to some poor, shivering and cowering young maiden lost beneath the shading of a bus stop behind a curtain of rain droplets, with a charming grin and a wink.

maybe.

a shuffle behind him catches his ear; he turns his head, an unamused expression on his face as his eyes drift over the empty room to land on you. the shadows beneath your eyes are prominent, and your hair is unkempt. there are sleep lines on your face; you probably fell asleep in a classroom somewhere, which is why you delayed.

it was evident you weren't expecting to see him, though— with the way your eyes widened a little before they dropped again, nose bridge wrinkling slightly as if you'd caught the scent of something unpleasant. your eyes left his, and he felt a little disappointed as he watched them wander toward the window, where the current downpour was prominent. he didn't like the way it made his chest pang when your attention was anywhere but him, so he raised his hand lazily, tilting his head to catch your attention that he so clearly craved.

"yo. got an umbrella?" he calls, tapping the tip of his budget cane on the floor. the thud is the only sound for a while as your gaze wanders back over to him; reluctant.

"no, i don't. i didn't expect it to rain so hard today." you responded quietly, stepping over to him with a small sigh. almost a little resigned, he thinks. he can't be sure, though. he never is with you. doesn't know whether to expect his candy to be sour in the center or the other way around; but maybe he likes a bit of uncertainty every once in a while. (not with you, though. if it means arguing? never with you.)

his sunglasses are hooked around the collar of your shirt. he doesn't know why it takes him so long to realize, but when he does, he has to clear his throat in an effort to hide the heat on his face and do away with the blush. "here. take mine. i don't need it," he says curtly, offering his umbrella to you. he wants to snatch the shades from your shirt, but he doesn't want anything to go wrong, so he just eyes them warily, careful not to let his gaze slip past into anything you'd be pissed at him for.

you eye him, eyes narrowed as you raise an eyebrow, but you don't protest. your fingers brush against his for a brief moment when you take it, shaking it a little before opening the door and stepping outside, opening it up. it looks like a little clear plastic mushroom cap over your head; you're short enough to constitute as the stalk in his eyes. it's a little funny, but he has to stifle the laugh bubbling on his tongue lest you think he's making a mock of you.

he follows after you, slipping past to stand at your side with his hands in his pockets. you can't help but feel a little curious despite your prolonged anger (you like holding grudges, he knows), so you sneak a glance upward to satiate your wonder. you don't expect him to look as breathtaking as he does.

the clouds are light overhead; they're not a heavy blanket of gray anymore, and a small strip of light manages to push through, shining on satoru's pale white hair. you can make out the edge of his undercut against his neck when the wind picks up a little, the color of fluffy white clouds on a lavender sunset with the sway of yellow flowers beneath an expanse of a bright sky. there's a little cat hair on the collar of his jacket; you realize with a faint flush that it must've been from when you were holding his jacket for him in the gym. somehow, the cat you have at home found its way to satoru. you hope your pet has become a matchmaking fortune teller, for the sake of your happiness.

what catches your eye the most, though, isn't the cat hair on his dark jacket or the faraway look in his misty blue eyes; it's the outline of rain water around him, a product of his infinity, you realize. he's dry underneath the downpour, and it never ceases to amaze you. it's like there's a soft glowing halo against the backdrop of tangled wires, gray walls and pale green bushes— he looks like an angel boy, school bag hooked and hanging over one shoulder.

eventually, you manage to peel your gaze away, and he notices— looks down at you, pressing his lips together and running his tongue over them. he can taste strawberry gloss.

wordlessly, you start walking. and he follows suit, rain bouncing off of him; you catch yourself sneaking glances from under the roof of your clear umbrella between raindrops that slide down the clear plastic. sometime during the walk home, he had gone off and gotten himself a drink from a nearby vending machine— the red can catches your eye, and your fingers curl around the rubber handle of the lent umbrella as you watch him drink; the bob of his adam's apple before he crushes the can up and tosses it into a nearby bush, causing a brief scattering of leaves and a downpour of collecting droplets onto the pavement.

despite the rain, the weeds between the cracks in the sidewalk still stay strong; they have deep roots. much like the way you never fail to scowl at him for littering. he catches it— of course he does. he's been praying for a sign you're not still so hopelessly angry with him that you can't even bring yourself to have a civil walk in the summer rain together. after the scowl, though, comes the smile— the one that always makes him melt in his shoes, much like the sunshine after the rain.

and there it is at last, he thinks. the hard sour coating melts away on his tongue, draining the taste of lemon to reveal a sweet, genuine center. all it takes is time. your lips curve up, and you duck your head, hiding the small bemused laugh that leaves you breathless.

"what are you laughin' at?" he huffs, glaring down at you. but there's no malice behind it— if only you could feel the wave of relief that's washed over him, a crest of white foam that leaves behind still waters reflected in the pools of sapphire in his eyes. nothing like the hit of numbing nicotine he'd shared in the shade of an alleyway with shoko earlier that day— away from the sun; away from you. hidden from both. or maybe they were the same— to him, he couldn't differentiate.

"i'm not laughing!" you protested weakly, immediately wiping the grin from your lips, and he regrets speaking up. "just.. i dunno."

you walk in silence for a little longer, content to listen to the rain lighten up overhead. satoru kicks a plastic onigiri wrapper out of the way, splashing up a puddle as a frown dampens his face when the wrapping only clings to his shoes. he's fine with getting a little grumpy if it means seeing you smile again. and even better, you laugh again— so sweet, like the chiming of bells in the wind's melody.

"please don't do that again." your voice sounds so very small when he hears it again, and he looks down at you from beneath long white lashes, the corner of his lips quirked up. the shape of them is almost cat-like, you think. he doesn't even know what you're talking about— a vague idea, at best— but he won't do it. not if it means hearing you sound so pathetically... sad. he doesn't like it. it's far too bitter for his taste. let the black betta you both used to know indulge in dark coffee and bitter cologne— satoru likes things sweet, like the cream surrounded by tea leaf matcha in the center of his mochi and fluttering feeling he gets when you run your hands through his hair, fluffing it up to your heart's content.

(as long as your heart is happy, his is, too.)

"i won't. happy now?" he sticks his tongue out, making a face. but you both know he means it— he hates breaking his promises to you. you smile when you look up at him again with a small nod, and he feels his knees wobble a little. he just hopes you don't notice. "sorry for lying. i just.. don't like it when you're mad at me. and you look at me like that," he mumbles under his breath, bunching up the fabric of his pants between his fingers. then, after a moment, "geez, you're so dramatic. quit carin' so much." he really hopes you don't stop, and it makes him feel like the world's biggest hypocrite. the strongest, but so weak for you.

"sorry, can't. the day you stop crushing your soda cans and littering is the day i'll stop caring, 'cus that won't be my satoru anymore." you tease. and he laughs, throwing his head back so you don't see the red that spreads across his cheeks, dusting his skin like powdered sugar on top of a strawberry crepe. he always wants to be your satoru, so he figures he'll keep littering. a few money fines here and there mean nothing to his undentable wallet, or the erratic beating of his heart, trapped against his ribcage in a feathery blooming of flowers he only gets from you and your pretty smile underneath the layer of lemony sourness.

you walk along the road for a little while longer. the rain has lightened, but it's still going— incessant, dripping from the leaves of trees and the knotted black wires overhead. he still has his infinity up, which means he can't pet the cat the two of you spot on your way back, but he's perfectly content to watch you do it. you scratch its chin, smiling at the way it purrs and nuzzles into your hand, and he wonders if he'd do the same if he was in its position.

he's lost in thought when you speak to him again, shoes splashing against murky puddles in the backdrop of a never-sleeping city; tokyo's bright skyline always makes your eyes go round with wonder. you say something, and he chuckles, warm and velvety. and then you realize what's been off with him this whole time— he doesn't have his shades on.

you slip them off the collar of your shirt, smoothing down the fabric before you reach over and attempt to nudge his arm. you don't think it'll work, because he still has his infinity up— and your sleeves are already getting spattered by rain that leaves darkened wet spots on the cotton. but to your amazement, your fingers make contact with his sleeve, and you watch in wonder as the rain actually falls— soaks into that little patch of wet fabric that you're able to feel on his arm. that he's turned his infinity off in that one spot so you could touch him. you spare a glance up at him, only to find his head angled away from you. you might be hallucinating, but the tips of his ears seem red.

you don't linger on it before you're tugging on his shirt with a frown, getting him to look down at you as you unfold his glasses and offer them over to him. he takes them quickly, and you don't miss the way the rain stops falling onto his arm again, back to bouncing off the invisible shield that protects him from everything (but you, it seems). he slips his dark shades back over his eyes, obscuring oceans of pure blue that seem like they've trickled in from the purest snowcaps on the distant mountains dotted with old red tori gates and shrines with scrapped paint. but you can't stifle the smile that spreads across your lips this time— giddy and fresh and filled with youth, blossoming like sakura petals in a spring that seems so far away yet so close with his presence by your side.

you don't say anything for a while. you're content to watch the rain wash down the pavement and into the gutters, past cute little coffee shops and parks with ponds as the droplets from the sky scatter the water in part of a never-ending cycle; watering the surface of the earth and bringing life that would soon spring up as shroomcaps and fresh dew on the clean cut green grass. you wonder what satoru sees through his lenses— though, you already know. you've worn them plenty of times before, when he insists on having your perfume cling to the frame for long missions he's sent on alone, when he can't have you hold his jacket, or his hand, or scold him for sneaking a smoke when you're not watching. that, and the extra lemondrops he keeps in his pocket; gifts from you that he's fought hard for.

you're more prepared to not feel any interference of his infinity this time when you reach over, and this time you don't go for his sleeve—yanking him close to you by his hand and forcing him beneath your umbrella. you feel the way he freezes up for a moment, but his fingers fill in the gaps between your own like its the most natural thing in the world, palms pressed together in a little breathless hug that leaves no room for the humid air.

"don't waste your infinity on the rain, dumbass. you'll fry what little is left of your brain." you scold him, and he just grumbles and scoffs angrily under his breath, cursing you as he hunches over and ducks his head to fit under the umbrella to negate his height. his hair brushes against the plastic roof of the umbrella, and his lanky limbs are still awkwardly sticking out, but his fingers tighten around yours and his thumb rubs over your knuckles, still a little damp from your earlier encounter with the rain, and you can't help but smile a smile bright enough to wash away every last bit of cloud in the sky. his personal sunshine.

even though he still prefers sweet things, satoru's come to like the taste of lemondrops. sweet and sour go well together, after all. just like you and him.

its okay if it doesnt taste like anything to u as long as u enjoyed it :) thanks for reading !! the black betta in question is suguru btw my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

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kenjakusbraincum · 6 months

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Heey, I LOVE your writings on soft sukuna, you write so beautifully🩷 please can you do one where he is jealous (fluff)😭🩷

Thank you sm for the kind words!!! Here's my best attempt at doing your idea justice <3

Sukuna has no real reason to be jealous. He practically owns you, controls every aspect of your life, who or what could he possibly be jealous of? Every servant who dared approach you in an inappropriate way would be dealt with swiftly. And you're a good pet, who has eyes for no one other than your master. You really don't give him a reason.

But there's this one thing... Since you've been so good and obedient, Sukuna has allowed you many liberties. You're permitted to skip around the mansion, watch Uraume cook, even enjoy little hobbies. You've tried many before you found that crocheting particularly piqued your interest. Ever since you've learned the basics, you've been spending hours working on perfecting your skills. At first it was cute, watching you squint in concentration as you move the hook. But then the math became really simple - having this hobby to keep you busy meant you approached Sukuna out of boredom a lot less. And he noticed it. It irked him, but you're not technically doing anything wrong. You were still as happy to serve him as ever, he just had to ask. But why would he have to ask? You should be all over him on your own. He should have to push you away, not beg you to give him attention. He didn't like this disturbance in your master and pet balance that this little hobby of yours caused.

He stands at the door now. You're crocheting again. You and your favorite servant laugh at your failed creation so sweetly, you don't even notice he's waiting. He clicks his tongue to establish his presence, and your servant falls to her knees immediately. You however, are not held to that high of a standard anymore.

"Master!", you call him, and hop up to greet him with a deep bow. Before he can say anything, you've picked up the piece of fabric you've been working on and ran into his arms to show him.

He looks at the ugly form and scoffs. "This is what I'm sponsoring?", he says and pulls a loose piece of yarn, making your little creation fall apart. He always was a bully, but you note his bad mood.

"I'm only a beginner...", you sulk.

"That much is obvious.", he flicks the yarn away and it falls onto the floor. Before you can bend to pick it up, he seizes your wrist and pulls you back. "Aren't you a little young to waste time with hobbies for the elderly?", he asks. You look at him with your cutest, practiced doe eyes, but it doesn't work.

"Come, pet. I know an activity more suitable for your age.", he says when you don't respond, and steps out of the room. You hop after him, unaffected by his condescending comments. You know that they're just for show. If he really thought you were a hag, you would've been gone a long time ago.

"Sitting at your throne all day?", you tease innocently and join him at his side, sliding your arm underneath one of his. You hope your playfulness will distract him from whatever is bothering him. "Or in a bath?" His lower set of eyes peeks at you and smirks, noticing that you're feeling particularly daring today. He's not sure how he feels about that. "Or in your bed." He rolls his eyes gently and opens the door to his chambers.

"At least then you'd be serving your purpose and actually spending time with your master.", he comments and shuts the door. His comment catches you a bit off guard and you stop in front of his bed. He makes his way towards you, and you look up at him with an insulted expression.

"Master, are you jealous of a ball of yarn?", you ask playfully, and squeal when he suddenly pushes you down to sit on the bed. Now you're at eye level... with his crotch.

"You've got quite a big mouth today. Put it to good use for a change, will you?", he runs his hand from the crown of your head to the back of your neck. You seem to have struck a nerve, so it really is the ball of yarn. Is it possible that Sukuna is this clingy?

"Will you?", he repeats and tugs on your hair and narrows his eyes. You smile obediently and reach behind him to untie his obi.

"Yes Master."

You try your best to manage the time you spend crocheting from then on, working on productivity in the hours that you dedicate to developing this skill. And it helps that you have a specific goal in mind now: helping Sukuna realize that this hobby is a friend, not an enemy. He still catches you engaging in it sometimes, and gives you a dirty look, but you're as quick as ever to drop what you're doing and join him. That seems to satisfy him.

When you're finally happy with the result of your creation, you look for Sukuna around the mansion. It's not really that hard to find him, as he frequents three places most of all: the dining room, his bedroom and his throne room. This time, he's sitting on his throne, and a small line of people wait for their turn to be gifted his attention. You on the other hand, don't have to wait in line to get it. His lower set of eyes spots you the moment you enter the chamber. You're allowed to roam the mansion, but barging in unannounced is not standard even for you.

Still, Sukuna has learned that you usually only feel daring enough to cross boundaries when you're sure he'll like what you have in mind. So for now, he will let this slide. He's bored as hell anyways. The people are dismissed and you pass by them on your way to his throne, nestled on a pile of bones. You stop in front of it and greet him with a bow.

"Master, I come to you with a humble offering.", you say with your hands on your thighs and your eyes fixated on the ground.

"Show me.", he says simply, but you recognize entertainment in his voice. You climb up the bones and feel his stare scan you from head to toe, before you sit on his knee.

"May I ask you to close your eyes?", you ask and flutter your lashes. Oh the way you seduce him. Who else could ask Sukuna to do something as dangerous as close his eyes? Give his opponent valuable time to land an attack. Who else could dare? And who else would he ever listen to and really close his eyes? Really do as he's told? Oh how safe he feels with you.

You take one of his large hands into yours, and gently pry his long fingers away to open his palm. He has beautiful hands. The only ones you've ever known, but you're sure they're the most beautiful hands in the world. So dangerous, so elegant. You want to press a kiss to his palm, but you hope your gift will have the same, maybe even more profound effect.

Something soft touches his skin, and then you speak, as politely as before. "You may look.", in your softest voice. And when he opens his eyes, he finds himself looking at you first. You're an offering on your own.

Then he looks at his hand. Two crocheted plush figures resembling him and yourself lay flat on his palm, connected through their holding hands. At first glance, it looks like they're two separate creations. In a sense, they are, but... He tries to part them.

"We're sewn together.", you explain. He hums in amusement and inspects your gift more closely. His plush is bigger, recognizable by the pink hair and four buttons for eyes. It's even wearing his favorite kimono. Yours is smaller and less detailed. You look like any other human when placed next to him, insignificant. But in a sea of pets, entertainers and lovers he's had in the past, he would never fail to recognize it as you.

He's spent so long looking at it with that face of his that you just can't read. You're starting to grow restless in his lap, and he feels your eyes dwell into his soul. When he looks back at you with one pair of eyes, your brows are furrowed in worry and you're fiddling your hands in your lap. He pats you on the head and pulls you closer, so you have no choice but to lean on his frame.

"It's beautiful, darling.", his fingers run through your hair, scraping your scalp softly. "No loose threads either.", he looks at you with all four eyes now, and you feel so small in his arms. You're not used to receiving this many compliments from Sukuna at once. Not ones that weren't directed at your body or performance. Especially not when he's looking at you so tenderly, when every word sounds so loving and genuine. "You've improved so much.", his hand is on your face now, and you catch him glancing at your lips. You part them to start thanking him, but you already know how much he hates listening to that.

You stay quiet instead, and lean closer, letting him take you. And he kisses you so softly, fingertips light against your heated skin. You feel like you're floating, like a lily pad in a warm pond. The littlest gesture of his affection has you melting in his embrace. The power he has over you... and how wonderful it is to surrender yourself to it.

None of the liberties and privileges you've been awarded with compare to this. You know that many pets have walked these halls before you. Many warmed his bed and claimed the title of his favorite. But how many loved him like this? Enough to dedicate time of their day to making intricate gifts. How many could say Sukuna kissed them lovingly, for no other reason than to show gratitude and affection?

You're flushed completely red by the time his lips leave yours. You can't hold the intensity of his gaze, as he stares at you in adoration. "I'm happ.. I'm glad you l-like it...", you stumble through the words and win a giggle out of him. You are just so cute. Like a pet should be. He rubs your head again and pushes you away lightly.

"Go now, the people await me.", he says with a benevolent smile gracing his face. "I'll see you tonight."

You bow to him and leave.

And when you visit him that night, he is as gentle as he was when he kissed you earlier, still in a good mood after your gift. Caressing your hair, shoulders and back, as you lay comfortably with your head on his chest. Keeping you warm in his embrace. You're trying your best to follow the conversation, but sleep is slowly taking over you. Sukuna notices and plants a kiss to your forehead, wishing you goodnight. The last thing you see before your eyes close, is your handcrafted plushies sitting on his nightstand.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #soft sukuna #ok hear me out #im not sure how well i did the “jealous” prompt justice #bc i just struggled to conceptualize how sukuna would even be jealous #when hes in control the way he is in this little universe #(which i write in by default bc i know it best as it lives rent free in my head)#sooo maybe the jealous part got lost along the way #and maybe this ended up exploring gift giving as sukunas love language further #but i hope you like it anyways!!!#also> i have no ideas how to use tumblr in other words line break and stuff like that is maths to me #im also not sure and welcome any input is it better to post writing directly in the answer to the ask #or should i post it separately and just add that it was requested by anon/other person

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